


Beyond the Horror, I'm Still Me

by flipflop_diva



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7189829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every night when she tries to close her eyes, Wanda dreams about metal bars and zaps of energy and the fear on untold number of faces. She's not sure even Clint and his family can help change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Horror, I'm Still Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Lightning Round (Minor Characters) at [Tower Party](http://towerparty.livejournal.com/), for the prompt _beat me up, beat me down_.

Wanda’s favorite place in the farmhouse was the faded yellow armchair in front of the huge bay windows in the guest room on the upper floor. The room Natasha once stayed in, before she liked the one next to Lila’s room better, back when she was young and scared and not really sure of what she was doing.

Those hadn’t been Clint’s words exactly — and Wanda knew he would deny them vehemently if she ever even dared to mention to Natasha that something like that had come out of his mouth — but the sentiment was the same. And the unspoken message was clear.

_And now it’s for you, while you, too, are scared and unsure._

He would never say that to her, Wanda knew. Laura either. But they might as well have. She heard it on the air every second of the day, heard it in her mind every time one of the Bartons looked at her.

She’d been at the farmhouse for thirty-two days now. Which was already two days longer than they had been trapped on that floating hell below the water. But every night when she tried to close her eyes, she dreamed about metal bars and zaps of energy and the fear on untold number of faces.

After Steve had broken them all out of their prison, Clint had offered to take her home with him, said Laura wouldn’t mind. It seemed dangerous, being so close to other people, but Steve had promised them Tony would keep Ross off their scent. She did not know how Steve knew that, but she had nowhere else to go. She wasn’t allowed to go back to the compound. She had no home to go back to. She couldn’t cut and color her hair and try to live unnoticed amongst strangers in a country that didn’t sign the Accords. She was too recognizable for that. 

She was too dangerous for that.

So she was here instead. Staring out the window while the Bartons were all downstairs. She could hear them laughing, could occasionally hear the baby crying, but she made no move to join them, even though Clint and Laura had told her repeatedly that she could. 

She knew those were just words. It was better to keep her distance, even if no one actually said that out loud. 

Wanda pulled her eyes away from the view out the window, stopped watching the sunlight glint off the long dirt road that wove through the fields, stopped trying to count the number of baseballs and footballs and water guns that Lila and Cooper had left outdoors, to watch the small glints of red light surge into the air as she waggled her fingers.

For thirty days, she had been unable to do even that, her arms locked to her sides at all times, a collar snapped around her neck. Sometimes she thought she could still feel it, a weight around her, holding her back, controlling her, reminding her.

Reminding her of how she could very easily hurt other people. Very easily _kill_ other people.

The last time she had used her powers — really used them — was that day at the airport, when she’d struggled to keep the tower from crumbling, to give Steve and Bucky just enough room to get into the hanger.

Moments later, she’d watched as Vision accidentally knocked Rhodey out of the sky.

She’d had nothing to do with that, but it did not matter. She knew what it was like to watch something you had created hurt someone else. 

She turned her hand over now, watched the red light disappear, pressed her palm against the window instead, felt the cool glass under her skin. Maybe it was better she never use her powers again. Maybe it was better she stay up here, in this room, for as long as possible. Hearing people, but not being part of them.

It was safer that way.

•••

It was Lila who came to her. Wanda had been at the farmhouse for forty-two days now, had last used her powers more than two and a half months prior. 

She had taken to spending at least some of her days outside instead of entirely trapped in her room, partly because Clint had threatened to shoot her with an arrow if she didn’t leave her room every now and then. Even if Laura had immediately reprimanded him and reminded them both that “No one uses weapons in the house, unless you want to sleep with the cows! For a month!”

But it was nice outside now, with the warmth of summer in the air and the soft breeze blowing through the fields. There was an old hammock tied between two trees just to the side of the house that Wanda could lie in, where she could watch the children play from a safe distance as Clint tinkered around in the barn and Laura sat reading on the porch as the baby napped, occasionally bringing out cookies and lemonade for the older kids.

She didn’t see Lila separate from her brother, where they had been playing catch, until she heard a soft voice next to her ear.

“Hi,” Lila said.

Wanda opened her eyes and glanced over at the small girl. She had her chin on the hammock and she was peering up at Wanda. 

“Hello,” Wanda said back.

“Auntie Nat likes to lay here too.” Lila pointed at the hammock Wanda was lying on. “But she lets me sit with her sometimes.”

Wanda smiled at that, immediately sitting up and folding her legs beneath her, making room.

“You may come up,” she told Lila, and offered her a hand. But the little girl was already pulling herself up and settling next to Wanda, partially leaning into her.

Wanda fought the urge to pull away. She hadn’t been close enough to touch anyone in weeks. She had dinner with the Bartons every night, saw them at breakfast every morning, but the physical distance she kept between herself and them ….

She didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

“My dad says you can move stuff with your mind.” Lila twisted her head so she could see Wanda clearly. “Show me!”

Wanda was shaking her head before Lila even finished speaking. “No,” she started. “I ca-”

“It’s okay,” Lila interrupted, nodding. “We’re outside. Mommy says Daddy only can’t play with his arrows inside.”

Wanda smiled at that. “Your mommy is very smart.”

“Yup,” Lila said, then she poked Wanda. “Show me?”

“I don’t want to scare you.”

“Why would I be scared?” Lila frowned at her. 

“I …”

“Please?”

Wanda glanced away from Lila, down at her hands, but she didn’t see them. Metal bars. People screaming. People crying. People afraid.

“My daddy says you can use your powers to save people.”

The images disappeared. Wanda turned her head. Lila’s eyes were big, intense. Nothing on her face said she thought Wanda would hurt her or scare her.

Maybe …

Wanda stretched out a hand, waggled her fingers just a bit, just enough for the red light to appear, tiny wisps floating in the air.

“Wooooooow,” Lila breathed beside her.

There was a faded tennis ball lying on the ground not more than two yards away. Wanda focused on it, put her hands together.

It had been so long since she’d used her powers. So long since she had felt the surge of energy throughout her body that came with them. So long since she’d felt like she’d had a purpose. A reason.

She focused on the ball, lifting it easily into the air, maneuvering her hands as the ball rose up, hurtled straight toward them, dropped out of the sky into Lila’s waiting hands.

The red light disappeared from her fingers, but the energy still rushed through her veins.

Lila stared down at the ball, and then she lifted her head. Pure delight shown on her face as she stared at Wanda.

In awe, not in fear. In ….

“That is _so_ cool!” she cried. “You have to show my brother! Cooper!”

In admiration. That’s what it was.

Lila was looking at her like she had done something amazing, something wonderful.

“Cooper!” Lila yelled again, and he was jogging over now, wanting to see what was going on. “You have to see what Wanda can do!”

Wanda did it again. And again. Moving more balls, letting them fly across the yard. The children cheered and clapped. “Do it again! Do it again!” Laughing and shrieking.

They weren’t afraid. Not of her, not of her powers.

They weren’t afraid.

She felt a prickling at the back of her neck, felt her senses — the ones she had spent almost two years honing during training — kick into gear. She turned her head, spotted Clint and Laura on the front porch, watching her.

Smiling at her.

Clint nodded at her, and Wanda found herself smiling back.

“Wanda, move this!” Cooper hollered from somewhere across the yard, and Wanda turned her head to see what he was pointing to.

They weren’t afraid. Not even a little bit.

They were two kids in a world of billions of people. But it was something. It meant something.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be okay again someday.


End file.
